


Just Like Every Other Cliché

by SamanthaCBlack18



Series: 10 Steps With My OTP [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Pre Relationship, Prompt: 01 - First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9508226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaCBlack18/pseuds/SamanthaCBlack18
Summary: Clarke was running late. It was just her luck she had to be even more late thanks to a rude stranger.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First part of a little challenge I want to test myself with.

 

She was late. She was awfully late.

She was marching through a busy sidewalk. Disposable travel mug full of hot black coffee in hand, bag bouncing of her hip, scarf often getting in the way of drinking said coffee and murder in her eyes.

Too busy trying not to spill her coffee while slaloming through throngs of people too slow for her taste, she did not notice the tall and dark haired man, suddenly stopping to pick up his dropped phone.

Time seemed to slow down, almost like it had halted. She took another step, too wrapped in her own mind. At the same moment, the man stopped, cursing to himself, dropped down to one knee to pick something up, and Clarke tripped right over his foot and nothing could have broken her fall.

She reflexively closed her eyes, waiting for the hard ground, but nothing of the sort happened. Well, not anything, she fell over yes, but not on the hard ground. Under her body there was something warm and not too hard. _A body,_ she realized.

It was just her luck.

And she then realized something warmer than a human body had spilled over her breast completely drenching her white shirt: her coffee.

This day couldn't have started any worse.

“Hey, Princess could you please move?”, asked a rude voice under her.

“Uh, sorry. And my name is not Princess.” She answered, while blushing. She stood up slowly, checking how badly was her shirt ruined.

“Yes, whatever. You drenched me with your coffee, Princess, the least you could do is pay for the dry cleaning now.” He snarled.

She rose her shocked gaze. _How dare he?_ He was the one who stopped out of nowhere in the middle of the sidewalk!

She checked her watch. _Shit_ , she was even more late now.

“Listen, I'm late, I have no time to discuss this, even if I would like to.”, she said fishing her phone out of her light leather jacket pocket. “Here, save your number, I'll text you as soon as I will be able to catch a breath at the hospital I work at. Work place I still need to get to and I am late.”

The man stared for a second at her hand and her phone, then took it and punched in his number.

“I already texted myself, at least I will be able to call you, if you don't reach me first.” He said, giving her back her phone.

“Yeah, whatever.” She said, picking up her now empty cup and throwing it in a trashcan nearby and then walking away.

She was barely a hundred feet away that the phone she still held in her hand vibrated, flashing on the screen with the name “Bellamy”. She slowed down her pace a bit, staring confused at her phone. She opened the new photo message she had received by this “Bellamy”. It was a screenshot of his phone, more precisesly of the new chat they apparently now shared with just one text (an “hey” she apparently texted him) and the name “Princess” on top and her number right under it. The picture was captioned with “drenched-with-coffee-guy here, still haven't caught your name though”.

 

 


End file.
